


The Mists of Dromund Kaas

by PhantomArchangel



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Genre: F/F, F/M, Medieval AU, gimizh is crossdressing, vette is robin hood, yep you read that right
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-23
Updated: 2016-12-03
Packaged: 2018-08-10 12:36:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7845214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhantomArchangel/pseuds/PhantomArchangel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gimrizh is Duke Baras's newest fighter, sent to Baron Malavai's Quinn's castle to learn from Sir Pierce, the greatest swordsman in the land.<br/>AKA: the medieval au we all don't need</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Well cut my hair and call me Mulan

**Author's Note:**

> Started out as a thing on tumblr that quickly grew out of control. Mostly going to be a series of short one-shots that work together to form a loose plot. I'd love to do something bigger, but if you check the word count on Iustitia you'll find that I am already dying and have no time to do another long fic ever again

 

“My chest hurts,” Gimrizh grumbles, taking one hands off the reins to tug her tunic down and make sure the fabric is lying flat.

Vette gives her a once over, “Yep, you’re good. If it’s tight enough that you can feel your soul being smooshed out of your chest, then you’re good. I’d slide your belt down a bit though. It’s emphasizing your lady-like waist.”

She lowers her belt a little so that it’s sitting across her hip bones, instead of above. Her swords tap against her side as the horse - borrowed for Duke Baras - ambles steadily towards the castle towering in the distance. “Stop staring at my lady-like waist,” she says, “You’re drawing attention to it.”

“Nah,” Vette flaps her hand dismissively, “This place is full of humans, right? Humans can’t tell Zabraks apart, everyone knows that. They’ll think you’re whatever gender you say you are. If they try get a bit handsy to figure things out, then threaten to cut their hands off. Or uh, challenge them to a bout, if you’re good enough by then.”

“I miss Korriban,” she mutters. It’s been easy for her so far, most people don’t look twice at a lowly servant, let alone a brutish Zabrak like herself. Korriban helped, the far away lands are well known for being a mix of different species. But she’s in Dromund Kaas now. Mostly human population. More temperate climate. Baras’s dukedom stretches from Korriban, through the markets of Vaiken, and then here, to the edges of Dromund Kaas. Another fifty miles away, over the hills, lies Kaas City, the royal capital.

Vette’s been everywhere, even to the far northern lands of Hoth. “Meh. Korriban is cold and dry and boring. Things are more interesting here.”

“People are _richer_ here, you mean,” Gimrizh corrects.

“True,” she agrees with a grin, “Richer and dumber. So, _so_ dumb.”

Gimrizh looks up at the tall towers of the castle ahead. They’re close enough now that she can catch the flickering blue of the banners blowing in the wind, a shade darker than the warm blue of the sky. “Have you ever stolen anything from here? I’d like to know if I should be on the lookout for my new home being burgled.”

“Not yet,” Vette tells her, “I’d like to though. The baron’s an asshole.”

She pauses, her horse continuing on despite her lack of guidance, “You’ve met Lord Quinn?”

Vette shrugs, “Technically no. He just looks like an asshole.”

“You think all humans look like that,” Gimrizh replies, rolling her eyes at her friend.

“I don’t think _Jaesa_ looks bad,” Vette’s eyes get all big and moonlike as she considers this mysterious girl, “She’s human, can’t help that, but her _hair_ … and her _eyes_ … and she does this cute thing with her hands when she’s nervous, and when I give her flowers she has this ecstatic blush on her cheeks and -”

“Please stop,” she implores her friend.

Vette sniffs, “I can see that Jaesa’s beauty is lost on you.”

The tall wooden gates of Horizon Castle loom just beyond the bend in the road, marking the end of Gimrizh’s journey. That’ll be her new home for a long while, till Baras decides that she’s to be sent elsewhere. She’s never met either the baron, or Sir Pierce, her instructor. She’s never been in Dromund Kaas before. She’s also never pretended to be a man before. Baras didn’t care what her gender was when she was just a maid.

“You should go,” she tells Vette, “before the guards see you.”

Vette reaches a hand up to pat her arm gently, “I’ll see you around, whenever you’re in my neck of the forest. Stay safe.”

“I could say the same to you,” Gimrizh replies, thinking of the pile of gold that’s been placed on Vette’s head. Her friend wasn’t as notorious as most bandits, but because she has a bad habit of targeting the richest people around, she’s made a few but powerful enemies. The sort of lords who don’t mind promising her weight in gold to whoever brings them Vette’s head.

Vette gives a parting wave before turning and stepping off the road.

Within a few minutes, Gimrizh has turned around the bend and Vette’s vanished into the woods, her blue skin becoming nothing more than a shadow in between the trees. Gimrizh wishes that Zabraks had such advantages. All she has are tattoos and horns. Fortunately both are things humans consider to be more masculine attributes, allowing her to pass as a man more easily than some. Vette could never do it, the shape of her ears a dead give away to any who’ve seen a Twi’lek before.

She double checks her clothes and then steels herself as she approaches the gate.

It’s just a few years. A few years of training and study, and then Baras will call her back to his manor in Korriban. A few years, and then she’ll be a knight.

The guard at the gate draws his bow as she approaches, “Who goes there!?”

“Gimrizh Korribanil!” she calls back, lowering her voice a touch, “Duke Baras’s servant, here to squire for Sir Pierce!”

He lowers his weapon and then calls out, “Raise the gates!”

Just a few years. She can make it.

Her horse ambles through the gates and into the lower ward. The gate shuts behind her, and even though she knows that there’s no way she’s been found out yet, it still feels like their trapping her here. At least it’s a beautiful place to be trapped it. The castle isn’t overly large, unlike a lot of a the places she passed by on the journey here, certainly far smaller than Baras’s sprawling estate. It’s fairly overflowing with greenery as well, probably a drawback of the wetter climate and frequent rainstorms.

She dismounts and discretely adjusts her clothing once more to make sure everything is where it’s supposed to be.

A man in working leathers walks up to her and looks her over, “So,” he says slowly, “You’re Korribanil.”

“And you are…?” she asks, hoping to god that her voice doesn’t squeak and he doesn’t look too closely at her chest or think her thin frame to be anything other than malnutrition.

He holds out a large meaty hand, the skin puckered with scars, “Foris Pierce. I guess you’re my new trainee. You got me taken off guard rotation for a month, I hope you know.”

“I apologize,” she says. She hesitates and then grips his hand firmly. “I’m honored to be studying under you, sir. I’ve heard many tales of your skill with a sword and if I can learn even some measure of that, then I would be most grateful.”

“Hm,” he frowns at her, drawing her gaze to the scars on the side of his face. She wonders where he got them, and how. From all the stories she’s heard of his impressive talents, she just assumed that he’s untouchable in battle. “I guess you’ll do,” he decides, “Lord Baras pulled a lot of strings to get you sent here, so I heard. You had better be worth it. I don’t want to waste my time with some two-bit waste of space.”

She should be annoyed by him, but actually she rather appreciates his directness. It’s reassuring. If he suspected her, she thinks he would just come out and say it. “I’ll do everything I can to live up to your reputation.”

He looks at her horse, “That’s not your horse. No way you can afford your own.”

“It’s Lord Baras’s,” she admits, “He lent him to me for the journey.”

“That makes more sense,” Pierce agrees. He points to her swords, “Are _those_ yours? Look a bit nice for a former manservant.”

She lays a protective hand on the pommel of her topmost sword, “They were gifts,” she says defensively, “I’ve carried them with me all the way from Korriban, in the east. Where did you get _your_ sword? From your father? You’re a hereditary knight, aren’t you?”

He looks like he’s going to laugh at her, “You’re a mouthy one, aren’t you?” He turns around and gestures for her to follow him, “Come on, boy. I believe in learning on the job and I’m not going to go easy on you.”

_Boy_? She’s not a _boy_ , she’s a _man_. Well, she’s not a man, actually, but she’s certainly not a boy, “I have a name, you know,” she snaps as she hurries to keep up with his long strides.

“I’ll call you what I want,” he tells her, “Have you ever even fought anyone before?”

“Yes,” she replies, “I’m not asking _you_ that, now am I?”

He laughs, “Course not. I’m a knight. You’re just a squire, at best.” He leads her through to the outer courtyard, “What’d Lord Baras see in you, anyway?”

“An endless pit of rage,” she says sarcastically, “What’s the baron like?”

“Quinn?” Pierce asks, rudely leaving off the title, “He’s an asshole.”

“Everyone keeps saying that,” she mutters.

He grabs a couple of wooden practice swords from a nearby rack and tosses one at her, “Drop the fancy steel over there and show me what you’ve got.”


	2. I always hear 'punch me in the face' when you're speaking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No art, tablet is packed into a box. Next chapter will have art, I promise

Sir Pierce is an unyielding taskmaster. Apart from the occasion where they first met, Gimrizh has had no opportunity to pick up a sword since. That's not to say she hasn't been kept busy, though. Every moment that she’s not asleep is one that Pierce has her mucking out the stables or polishing armour or taking swords to the blacksmith for repair or just standing around and holding his things while he’s busy.

It all has a purpose, so he says.

“Hold this,” Pierce tells her, tossing his sword at her.

Thank god he left the scabbard on this time, Gimrizh thinks as she catches the weapon with both arms.

He’s giving a lesson to one of the other knights, Sir Tanido. Er, lesson might be a strong word for it. They’re mostly just punching the daylights out of each other. Pierce is quite good at brawling, keeping the smaller knight at arms length before punching him in the stomach and throwing him to the ground.

Tanido groans and rubs his shoulders, “Again? Really?”

“You need to fix your stance, you idiot,” Pierce tells him, offering him a hand up, “If I’d had a sword, I could’ve chopped your legs off.”

“You’re just bigger than me, is all,” Tanido grumbles.

Pierce chuckles, “Nah. Let me prove it to you,” he waves his hand at Gimrizh, “Korribanil, get your ass over here!”

Is she going to get to fight someone again? She hurries over, her arms still full carrying his sword and stops at his side, “Sir?”

He grabs his sword and points her at Tanido, “Beat the shit out of this idiot, will you?”

“Sir, he’s a _knight_ ,” she reminds him.

“I know,” Pierce says, shoving her forward, “And he’s an idiot, so go prove him wrong. See, he thinks that he lost cause he’s smaller than me. You’re smaller than him. Win, and you prove my point.”

Tanido glares at him, “Come on Pierce, the boy’s tiny! Looks like a gust of wind could knock him down.”

Alright. That’s it. Gimrizh rolls up her sleeves and stomps forward, “Prove it,” she dares him.

He punches her in the face.

It hurts like a goddamn sack of bricks smacked her cheek and she staggers to the side. She can hear Pierce laugh behind her and she thinks that maybe he’s trying to prove a point to both Tanido and her. If it gets her a few swordsmanship lessons instead of more chores, then she’ll beat the crap out of this man, knight or not.

What did Pierce say, about Tanido having poor stance? She drops to the ground and kicks his legs out from under him.

Tanido collapses, swearing profusely as he goes down. It's a good thing he's not wearing armour, now that she thinks about it. Otherwise all that metal would leave him black and blue the next day.

She has about a second to savour her victory before Tanido grabs her ankle and drags her down with him. He pushes her onto her back and leaps on top of her, fist raised to knock her teeth out.

"Enough!"

Tanido lets his hand fall uselessly to his side and reluctantly stands up. Who stopped the fight? It sure as hell wasn't Pierce. Gimrizh wipes the dirt off her face, carefully avoiding what feels like the beginning of a black eye. She pushes herself to her feet unsteadily and look around.

"What do you think you're allowing, Sir Pierce?" An unfamiliar man snaps, "I thought you had more dignity than sanctioning brawls in my courtyard."

She can see Pierce trying not to glare at the man, "Just a bit of training."

The man turns to look at Gimrizh as she approaches, and she in turn looks at him. He's dark haired and pale, taller than she is by a number of inches. There's a deep blue cape slung over his shoulders, clasped in silver and gemstones. "And you are?"

Gimrizh hastily bows, "My lord. I'm Gimrizh Korribanil, a servant of his grace, Duke Baras."

The baron - for the man can be no one else - glares pointedly at Pierce, "You could learn something about manners from this boy. Perhaps you should be demoted to squire in his place."

"You would if you could," Pierce says testily. He must really have a pair on him if he's speaking so rudely to a baron. Gimrizh is impressed. Sure, she'll never do the same, but she's got a lot more to lose than the renowned 'greatest swordsman in the land'.

Lord Quinn glares at him. No wonder Pierce called him an asshole the other day. The two definitely seem to have some bad blood between them. Even though the thought of asking Pierce about it is tempting, Gimrizh reminds herself that she's here to learn and keep her head down and not get herself exposed.

"Pleasure to meet you, Korribanil," Lord Quinn says dismissively, "I've heard Duke Baras put a lot of money towards sending you here. I'm interested in seeing if you live up to his expectations."

Oh, she's _well_ aware of what Baras's expectations are. "I shall do my utmost not to disappoint," she assures him.

"Good," he turns back to Pierce, apparently no longer concerned with her, "Send another patrol to the south-east. There have been reports of Hutts crossing the border in raiding parties."

Pierce shrugs, "I'll send some men out. Probably just bandits again - Hutta ain't _that_ stupid."

Bandits? Gimrizh knows Vette's band keeps to the south-east as well. It _could_ just be some idiot Hutts border hopping, but she agrees with Pierce. It's probably bandits and hopefully not Vette. Probably Vette. Hopefully not.

"Regardless, we must keep our border secure," Quinn orders before dismissing the both of them and leaving the courtyard.

Pierce sighs, clearly annoyed. "And I'm stuck here," he complains, "Would rather be killing some fucking bandits." He snaps his fingers at Tanido, who's been trying to pretend he isn't eavesdropping, "Tanido! Get the team ready and run patrol!"

"Bandits again, sir?" Tanido confirms, deferring to Pierce even though they technically hold the same rank. She supposed all knights here have learned that Pierce is so obviously the best that there’s no point in trying to boss him around.

"You know the drill," Pierce says, "Get going."

Tanido nods respectfully before scampering off.

Gimrizh stares after the baron, "Is Lord Quinn always...?"

"An asshole?" Pierce finishes, even though that's not what she was going to say, "Told you."

 _For an asshole noble, he sure does have nice eyes_ , she thinks, and then promptly shakes the thought from her mind. She has work to do.


	3. I ain't been droppin' no eaves sir, honest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, tablet in box so no art. Also the ch title is a quote from Sam Gamgee

“I need to be out there,” Sir Pierce is arguing. “My men are good, but you know I’m the best you’ve got. I’m wasted just sitting around here.”

Gimrizh keeps her breathing low and even, leaning against the stone wall with her ear pressed towards the crack between the door hinges. Eavesdropping hadn’t been her _intention_. She’d just been walking past with an armful of linens and had overheard her name and after that of _course_ she’d had to stop and listen in.

“Lord Baras’s instructions were very clear,” Quinn reminds him. His voice is quieter, harder to hear than Pierce’s annoyed remarks. “Korribanil is not to be placed in danger.”

Baras wants her as a perfect weapon, locked up to be safe until Baras takes her down from the shelf to cut at his enemies. Pierce snorts, “ _Bullshit_. The boy’s an idiot, not a piece of glass. Let him kill a few bandits, get his ass handed to him, and he’ll toughen up a bit. You really worried that some kid is going to get a bruise?”

“Of course not,” Quinn quickly replies, “I’m concerned, as you should be, that Lord Baras would disapprove.”

Pierce doesn’t seem to be particularly bothered by the prospect, “If Baras wants a goddamn knight, I said I’d deliver. Tell him to keep his nose out of business that he doesn’t know anything about.”

“Tell him that yourself. I don’t share your desire for execution.”

“I’ll take the boy with me and if Baras gets snitty about it, I’ll deal with him.”

“What, you want to take responsibility if Baras loses his latest pet project?”

“Not like anything’s going to go wrong, but yeah. If it gets me out of this damn castle and puts a sword in my hand, fuck it. ”

There’s a moment of silence. Gimrizh holds her breath, trying to avoid detection.

“Fine,” Quinn agrees, “On _your_ head it is.”

She silently cheers. While she’s not desperate to get out and about like Sir Pierce is, she is looking for a chance to fight and this could be it. If she can prove to Pierce that she’s got the skills he seems to think she lacks, then maybe she can finally stop running errands for him and start learning. There’s an hourglass slowly pouring away all her time. Baras won’t wait forever for her to gain skills. If he feels as though she’s not living up to his expectations fast enough, he’ll give up on her.

And on the other hand, if she’s with Pierce while he’s chasing bandits, she can make sure that Vette doesn’t get caught or killed. Her friend is going to get herself dragged into Kaas City if she keeps aiming for the richest people to target.

The door opens and she finds herself on the receiving end of a very annoyed glare from the baron. She flinches backwards, expecting to be reprimanded or hit or something. Quinn looks over his shoulder to tell Pierce, “Get your group ready and leave. I don’t want to bother with you any longer.”

“Fine,” she hears Pierce say.

Quinn shuts the door, grabs her forearm, and pulls her down the hall.

“I’m so sorry,” she apologizes as soon as they’re out of earshot, “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, I just heard my name mentioned and -”

“That,” he says sternly, cutting her off, “was a very foolish thing to do. You should count yourself lucky that I didn’t inform Pierce - I imagine he’d be livid if he knew. I was under the impression that you weren’t quite as idiotic as Pierce claims. Clearly, I was mistaken.”

She shakes her arm out of his grip, “I’m _sorry_. But it was just an accident. You were talking about _me_ , I had a right to hear what you had to say.”

A look of surprise crosses his face, like he'd just been expecting her to say nothing.

She immediately regrets ever speaking, “I- I’m sorry, my lord. Please forgive me.” She hastily bows, trying to sound as sincere as possible, hoping that maybe, if she’s lucky, the baron won’t hit her like Baras does. If she’s going to be joining Sir Pierce on his patrol, it wouldn’t do to be sore from bruises.

It’s impossible to tell what he’s thinking as he stares at her. Finally, he asks, “What _does_ Duke Baras expect from you?”

“Pardon?” she stumbles over the question. Why does he want to know? Has she blown her cover somehow?

“He spent a good deal of credits sending you here,” the baron explains, “placing you under Pierce’s instruction, lent you a horse, and even went out of his way to instruct us not to place you in undue danger. If he’s looking for a knight that’ll win bouts for him, it would have been cheaper and easier for him to relocate Pierce instead. If you’re to be staying under my roof, I have the right to know.”

That is absolutely not the question she had been expecting and _damn_ is that hitting the nail on the head. “Lord Baras’s interest in whether or not I achieve knighthood is circumstantial,” she reluctantly tells him, “He sent me to squire for Sir Pierce because Sir Pierce is, quite frankly, the best. My lord cares for skill, not rank.”

“And what skills, exactly, are you here to acquire?” he presses.

Nothing much, just learning to kill anyone Baras points her at like a loyal dog. She chases the bitter thought away and instead replies vaguely, “Whatever skills Lord Baras asks me to learn.”

He doesn’t buy it for a moment, “How conveniently open-ended.”

“I’m sorry,” she repeats, “Placing you in a difficult position was never my intent - I only do as Lord Baras orders. I apologize for any inconvenience this causes you.”

“I suppose that’s what we all do - as Lord Baras orders,” he reluctantly agrees.

She bows one last time, “I’m sorry again for eavesdropping. I will refrain from doing so in the future. Please excuse me.”

“Dismissed,” he allows.

Tightly gripping the load of linens, she scurries past him down the hallway. “Thank you, my lord,” she murmurs as she gracelessly retreats from the confrontation.

“Oh,” he calls after her, “do make sure that you _aren’t_ injured on this patrol. If you get yourself killed, then Lord Baras shall turn his wrath to me, no matter what Pierce says.”

“I will do my best,” she assures him, meaning every word of that promise. She has no intentions of dying either.

“Good luck, Korribanil,” he says absently as she runs off, almost like he doesn’t care at all. She can’t tell why he said it and it bothers her even once she’s made her way outside and is standing in the sunlight.


	4. What light through yonder window breaks?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoo! Art! As always, comment and check out Iustitia for more shenanigans!

“What light through yonder window breaks?” Vette waxes, rolling the words off her tongue like they’re made of honey, “It is the east, and Jaesa is the sun.”

Jaesa flushes that pretty pink, such a nice color, but so exotic to Vette, who’s far too used to the blues and greens and reds of Twi’leks. Humans are so often plainly colored, all just shades of browns. Pink is a lovely addition. “I doubt that’s your line,” Jaesa says, smiling at her as she says it, “And besides, I cannot be the sun, as it has just set.”

“Well,” Vette admits, “that’s all the poetry I’ve got.” She takes the lute she has strapped to her back and places it in her lap, “I did bring musical accompaniment.”

She can see Jaesa holding back a laugh. Vette used a rope to climb up the steep stone walls of the convent to get to Jaesa’s room, bringing the lute had been extra weight that she only partly needed. It’s more a joke than anything else. Quiet chatter is common in the convent, but the high musical notes would certainly draw the Mother Superior’s attention.

“Perhaps some other time?” Jaesa proposes.

Vette fakes a pout, drawing out the charade, “But I was going to serenade you. It would have been _so_ romantic.”

The decision is made for her when Jaesa takes the lute herself and stows it under her bed, “I prefer my romance with a little less ‘getting thrown out and excommunicated for sneaking my lover into my room’.”

“You’ve got to live life on the edge,” Vette remarks.

“That’s a little bit more edge than I think is necessary,” Jaesa says, before pointing a finger at where Vette is, “and you are literally sitting on the _edge_ of my window.”

Unable to resist, Vette leans closer with a grin on her face, “Is that your way of saying you want me to come inside? Cause I can.”

Jaesa’s cheeks turn cherry red, “I - um, that is to say - well, I don’t _not_ want you to come inside, but I also don’t want you to get killed tonight, and don’t you have work to do in the morning besides?”

“True that,” Vette reluctantly agrees. She’s got a busy as fuck week ahead of her. For the past few years, her gang has been running a pretty consistent supply train from the southeast lands of Dromund Kaas to Ziost City. Not a whole lot of competition, Ziost isn’t exactly a trading hub, but lately there have been a bunch of thugs border hopping in from Hutta. “Goddamn Hutts. Can’t keep their hands of what ain’t theirs.”

“They are despicable,” Jaesa comments. With a sigh, she leans her head on her hands and looks up at Vette, longing in her eyes, “I wish I could go with you.”

Vette wags her finger, “Nuh-uh. You stay here, all princess like in your tower, cause here is where it’s safe for you. _I_ go out a fight people and beat people up and steal their shit and that’s where it’s best for me. Everything will work itself out.”

“I know you’re doing what you think is best,” Jaesa allows, “but I still worry.”

Damn, Vette’s so lucky that Jaesa’s not turning her puppy dog eyes on her right now. On a good day, Vette can resist that look for a whole two seconds. “Gotta do what I gotta do, darling. Besides, I have friends in high places. The risk could be a whole lot worse than it is.”

Jaesa stands up from her chair and rummages around in her locked trunk for a minute before retrieving something. She moves back to the window and places it carefully in Vette’s hands, “Wear this for me? It will keep you safe from harm and guide you home to me when there are no stars to lead your way.”

It’s a pendant, a circle of some light colored wood with a dozen different symbols carved into it. One side is dominated by the symbol of the Jedi, the pagans that Jaesa comes from. To Vette, the elegant image has always looked like a bird or perhaps a star, intricate and beautiful. She smells the wood and guesses, “Holly?”

“We use it for protection and the church believes it keeps away evil spirits,” Jaesa explains.

Vette grins and slips the pendant over her neck, “Twice as lucky then.”

Carefully, Jaesa picks the pendant up from where it hangs over Vette’s chest and presses a kiss to the wood, “ _Thrice_ as lucky.”

Vette can feel her face heating up. Damn it, why does Jaesa have to be so cute all the time? To avoid doing anything rash, she grabs the lute and swings it onto her back - best not to leave it in Jaesa’s room where someone might discover it and wonder as to its origins. “I should go. You’re right, I have some Hutts to hunt down this week.”

Jaesa smiles sadly at her, “Stay safe. You carry my heart in your hands and I would see you bring it back to me before longing for it’s return becomes too great.”

There she goes, using her pretty words again. “I have something to give you as well, before I leave,” Vette says.

“There’s nothing you need give me,” she tries to protest.

Vette places her finger underneath Jaesa chin and then leans in to steal a slow, lingering, and all too painfully sweet kiss. Against her lover's lips, she murmurs, “Return that to me when I come back?”

Through the heavy blush on her cheeks, Jaesa replies, “I’ll be sure to keep it safe for you.”

Then Vette double checks the knot of rope before falling off the windowsill and climbing to the ground. A minute later, Jaesa undoes the knot and the whole length of rope drops down. The darkness makes it easy for Vette to sneak of convent lands and even though she’s technically a good deal safer the farther away she is, the moment her feet hit the open road she wishes she were back in danger.

One day soon, things will be different. Vette doesn’t know how or when, but she knows that she’ll keep seeing Jaesa till the end of her life.


	5. A Ripoff of the Canterbury Tales

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think i'm going to be incorporating some mythos elements into this story, hence dragons. This chapter is half the story that Pierce is telling, and the other half is how Gimrizh drew Baras's attention to begin with. Also, yes, I know that in canon Lorant is a woman, please bear with me for a bit.

“-and that was when her husband walked in,” Tanido says, finishing his lewd story.

The five of them are sitting around a dying fire in the middle of the woods that lie between the Hutta and Dromund Kaas border. At some point between leaving Horizon Castle and setting up camp after a week of travel, she’d been accepted into their strange group. Having people be friendly to her isn’t something she’s used to. There’s Vette, and no one else. Servants and Zabraks get little kindness, and she is both.

Lorant throws another log onto the fire, sparks fluttering up into the night sky, “Tanido, _all_ your stories are cuckold stories.” He rolls his eyes, “You could at least try something different.”

“Hey, all _my_ stories are true,” Tanido replies cheekily, “Jealous you aren’t getting as much as I am?”

“Absolutely not,” Lorant says, crossing his arms sternly.

Arlos, who’s the smallest on the team except for Gimrizh, nudges Pierce, “Hey, boss, you should tell the new kid that story. He should hear it.”

“Alright,” Pierce agrees, shifting on his patch of dirt and stretching before he settles back down, “I guess I haven’t told that one in a while. So listen up, kid.”

Everyone around the circle leans in ever so slightly. Gimrizh tucks her knees closer and looks into the fire as she listens.

“Many years ago,” Pierce begins, “there was a young Knight, eager to fight and prove himself in a battle. And as most such idiot young Knights are, it was easy for him to get swindled. This Knight grew up in the country, but one day a powerful Lord called the Knight to his castle and said ‘Fight for me, and I will give you anything you want in return’.”

“Now, to an idiot young Knight, this sounded pretty good, so the Knight said -”

~*~

“- I don’t understand,” Gimrizh whispers, darting her eyes around the room, wondering why on earth has the Duke of all people dragged her from Tremel’s forge to speak to her. She’s nothing and no one, an apprentice to the smith who will never hold station or money. She’s just a street orphan who landed a job.

Baras looks down at her, “I’m impressed, young one. You killed a thief with your bare hands and walked away without a scratch on you. Do you think that I am likely to ignore such an occurrence within my city?”

She bows even lower, her forehead touching the floor as she hopes he will not take offence, “I am so sorry, my lord, I didn’t mean-”

“Fool, I’m not angry with you,” he replies harshly, “Though I will be if you do not listen. I said I was _impressed_. I’ve been looking for new talent for a while now, and I have a specific place for you in my arsenal.”

Gimrizh looks up briefly, then diverts her eyes again, “What-”

~*~

“‘- would you have me do?’ And this Lord, being vain and interested in his own image, told the Knight to fight his battles for him, to become unmatched in a tourney, to bring back prizes from jousts, to be unbeatable,” Pierce continues.

Lorant laughs, “What a prick.”

“Shut it,” Tanido hisses at him, “don’t interrupt.”

“Yeah, if you wouldn’t mind?” Pierce asks them with a glare. The two quiet in an instant, and he keeps going, “So as I was saying, this prick of a Lord pointed the idiot Knight at a fight and the Knight went off, sword in hand. And then he came back, sword in hand, his enemy’s head in the other. And the Lord thought that he’d finally come across someone who was strong and powerful, who would win all the Lord’s battles without fail. So he pointed the Knight at bigger targets, worse targets, targets that any honorable knight would flinch at.”

“But this idiot Knight wanted what the Lord promised to reward him with, so he did as asked. He crippled the champion knight of an opposing lord, threatened citizens who hadn’t paid their taxes, did things that anyone else would call a crime. One day, of course, the Knight met someone who called him out on his idiotic crap, and the Knight realized that the Lord might not have any intention of ever paying him.”

“So he went back to the Lord and said ‘I won’t do this anymore’.”

“And the Lord saw that his scheme had failed for the moment, but this Lord was a clever bastard, and told the Knight ‘I have one last task for you. Then I shall repay you.’ And the Knight, being an idiot, thought this was alright, so the Lord continued, ‘I want you to kill-’”

~*~

“-Tremel.” Baras orders. “He is a traitor, and I want you to kill him. Do this, and I shall ensure your place in my service. You shall be trained in every form of combat that you wish, given money, lands. You will do as I order, you will be my hand that strikes from the shadows and in return you will want for nothing in your life.”

No.

Not Tremel. Tremel, who pulled her from the dirt and placed her in a home, who might have slapped her when she failed but never failed to praise her when she succeeded. Tremel, who showed her how to temper steel, how to swing a hammer, who helped her make her own swords from scraps.

So Gimrizh raises her head and says, “As you say, my lord.”

~*~

“‘- a dragon.’” Pierce finishes, a touch of the dramatic working into his voice. “And the Knight, even though he knew that no one had ever killed a dragon before, decided to try his hand at the task.” He pauses and she realizes that the entire group is looking at her.

“What?” she asks, “I didn’t say anything?”

Lorant raises an eyebrow, “You’re not going to ask about the whole ‘dragon’ thing? This is the point where all of us called bullshit, to be honest. We all kinda figured some snot-nosed kid would get annoyed about including dragons in a story like this.”

Then perhaps none of them have been to Korriban. “I know dragons are real,” she says, “Besides, I said I’d listen. I won't interrupt.”

“Good kid,” Pierce comments, “I’ll keep going then. So the idiot Knight went off to the mountains of Korriban to find the dragon that the Lord told him to kill. He climbed to one of the highest peaks in the lands, a place where no one else had ever gone before or would likely ever go again. And there, he found the dragon.”

“And the dragon spoke. She said, ‘My name is Krayt, greatest of all the beasts that walk the earth or fly through the heavens. These are my lands and my home and you have trespassed. But I am not cruel without need, so tell me why you are here and perhaps I shall be entertained by you for a while.’”

Lorant smirks, “I always like that bit. _She_.”

He clears his throat and Lorant quickly shuts up, “So this idiot Knight was feeling particularly stupid and brave at the time and told Krayt, ‘My Lord has commanded me to kill you. I shall take back a trophy as proof of your death’.”

“And Krayt laughed, because the idea that someone so small could kill her was hilarious. She replied, ‘You are funny, little man. I shall let you leave with one of my pearls and your life.’ But the Knight didn’t listen and drew his sword.”

~*~

“Just go, go!” Gimrizh pushes Tremel onto the horse, panic in her chest and fear coursing through her as she betrays Baras. “Get to the southern border, find Vette, she’ll take you to safety. Just _go_ before Baras catches you!”

Tremel pulls a ring from his finger and hands it to her, “For Baras.” Then he takes his knife and draws it across his palm, red drops of blood welling up and staining the metal, “You’ll need proof.”

She takes the knife and the ring and steps back, “Don’t you dare die. I still owe you a favor.”

“Now, I think I owe you,” Tremel disagrees, “We shall meet again.”

Then he spurs his horse into a gallop and vanishes into the night, leaving her with the lie she holds in her hands.

~*~

“There was a great burst of flame, and the Knight fell, half his face burning and his sword nothing more than a handful of molten steel,” Pierce continues, staring into the fire as though it personally offends him, “And the Knight came to understand that the Lord had no intention of repaying him for this, for the Lord knew that there was no way the Knight could succeed at this task. The Lord intended for this to be his death. So the Knight grabbed a pearl from Krayt’s horde and ran.”

“He ran all the way back to the Lord’s castle and presented the pearl as proof that Krayt was dead. ‘Lord,’ the Knight said, ‘I have done everything that you asked of me.’”

“The Lord was furious, for he had promised the Knight to grant whatever desire he could name and the Lord never wished to have to repay that debt. But the Lord knew how to bide his time and how to wait, so he pretended to be pleased. ‘You are truly a great knight,’ he said, ‘the greatest in all the lands, and now I shall repay you as you wish. Name your desire, and it shall be yours.’”

“And the Knight looked up at the Lord and saw that if he asked for freedom, the Lord would kill him to protect his own reputation. He saw that if he asked for money, the Lord would kill him to take it back. He saw that if he wanted lands, they would not be given, if he asked for titles, they would be empty of power. So instead, he decided that what he truly wanted was revenge. And the Knight said ‘My wish is to-”

~*~

“-serve you always, my lord,” Gimrizh says. The bloodied knife lays in front of her on the cold stone floor, and the ring glints in Baras’s hands.

“Good,” Baras smirks at the ring and thinks that he has won.

But Gimrizh looks at him and thinks that one day he shall choke on his own blood and look down to see her own sword sticking from his heart. If Baras wants to force her to kill the people she cares for, then she shall let him believe she does his work. She shall stand by his side and do his bidding and then, when his power collapses around him and his every scheme falls to ruin, when she burns it all to the ground, she shall be there to turn to him and say ‘Oh, my master, look at what _I_ have wrought’.

~*~

“And that,” Pierce finishes, reaching up to his cheek to touch the burnt scar that marrs his skin, “is how I got this scar.”

Gimrizh blinks, “The knight is you? That story is your story?”

He nods slowly, poking at the fire with a stick, “Every word of it. It’s all true. So, now you know who the Knight is. I’ll let everyone guess who the Lord is.”

“He always does this,” Tanido explains, “We can’t figure out who the Lord character is, and he says that you don’t know the moral of the story till you know who everyone is. We each get a guess every time he tells it, see. Still not sure if any of us have gotten it right.” He turns to Piece, “I still say it was Quinn. You hate him so much, there’s got to be a reason.”

Lorant scoffs at that. He leans in and says, “I’m betting it was Vowrawn. That man is actually crazy enough to send someone after a dragon.”

“I think it’s Malgus,” Arlos suggests, “He’s a militant through and through.”

Pierce just looks amused by their guesses. “Well kid, got a guess?”

“It was Baras,” she states, and she doesn’t need to see the strange stare that Pierce gives her to know that she is right.


	6. It's a Small World After All

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next little installment of our shitty tale

“Get that packed up!” Pierce barks, “I want everything on the horse, ready to go, in two minutes!”

The four of them haul ass, cleaning up the remnants of last night’s camp, stowing everything they brought with them onto the back of their sole horse. Gimrizh kicks the remaining burnt bits of charcoal and wood from the fire, making sure there aren’t any sparks left before she takes the setup apart. Starting a forest fire is the last thing that she wants.

Behind Pierce’s back, Lorant rolls his eyes, silently mimicking their leader’s method of shouting orders. Gimrizh has to stifle a laugh before Pierce can yell at her for not working fast enough.

The only warning they have is the disant _twing_ of a bowstring.

Suddenly, Pierce screams and an arrow is sticking out of his shoulder.

A horde of bandits rushes out of the trees, descending upon their scattered group with Hutt-made weapons and war cries. Out of the four of them, not a one has armour on and they aren’t even armed. Although they might stereotype Hutts as stupid, clearly this group of border raiders has a better sense of timing than most.

Lorant grabs his longsword and covers Arlos, who pulls his own bow and quiver from his bedroll and begins shooting back. Tanido has a sword in one arm and his shield in the other, working around the two, cutting down enemies while keeping them off Pierce, who might be down an arm, but it still hacking away.

They move without consideration for Gimrizh - unused to working with her at all and far more concerned with protecting Pierce.

That’s fine. She can handle it. She draws both her blades for the first time in months.

Her first victim looks at her and clearly sees someone who doesn’t know what they’re doing and it the smallest target in the bunch. Simple. She steps into his attack, using one of her swords to knock his blade to the side and then follows up with an undercut that opens his torso, spilling his guts out onto the ground.

She spins on the balls of her feet and catches an axe before it can plunge into her head. The bandit has a moment of panic when his axe slides into the guard of her blade before she neatly steps forward and runs him through.

Someone tries to shoot her. They’re too close to get away with it. Abandoning the pretense of guarding the other four - they can handle themselves - she leaps forward and engages the archer. One cut breaks his bow and the second takes his head. She turns to find her next dead man. A bandit running towards the group with a knife will do the trick. She drops low to the ground and spins, slicing through his legs and then she buries one of her blades in his chest.

Someone blows a horn and then more people are storming the clearing.

At first she thinks that the attackers have called for reinforcements, but then she notices a few things that contradict that thought.

The first is that every new bandit immediately starts fighting off the Hutts.

The second is that they’re all Twi’leks.

The third is Vette.

“Take this you son of a-” Vette laughs, throwing a knife into someone who tries to fight her. They go down and she kicks them in the crotch for good measure, “Ey Gim! Thought you could do with a little help.”

It’s just the two of them over here, the rest of Gimrizh’s team is too wrapped up in the chaos to pay attention. Good thing too, in case someone starts to wonder why she’s associating with a thief and a wanted criminal. She can’t risk blowing her cover.

“You’re insane,” she tells Vette with a smile, “Absolutely insane.”

Vette grins, “Hey, gotta keep my neck of the woods clear.”

It’s easy to work in tandem with Vette. Pierce and the other three knights are clearing away the last of the attackers with the help of Vette’s Twi’lek friends, and there are only a few bandits left for the two of them to contest with. Gimrizh steps into an attacker’s guard, cutting through the wood of his spear with one blade and cutting his head off with the other. At her side is Vette, who ducks and weaves and darts out with a knife every time there’s a pause.

It all goes horribly wrong when the last man buries his knife in Vette’s chest.

Gimrizh turns, to scream, to kill the man, to help Vette, anything, when she sees the knife shatter into dust two inches away from Vette’s heart.

The three of them all stop and stare. Like an absent afterthought, Gimrizh digs her swords into the man’s chest to take care of him.

Vette reaches beneath her tunic and pulls out a wooden charm, a small circle engraved with a design that makes Gimrizh’s hearts skip a beat. Jedi magics. Pagans who live in the west and defy the church. _Illegal_.

“How the _hell_ did you get that?” she whispers, “That’s a Jedi symbol!”

The pendant disappears back into Vette’s shirt and she quickly looks around to make sure no one saw. “Tell no one. Seriously, Gim, I don’t tell people about you, you don’t tell anyone about this.”

She doesn’t have time to agree with that before Pierce draws everyone’s attention back to him. Even partially incapacitated, blood running down his right shoulder and arm, he still manages to pull his longsword from the ruined chest cavity of his opponent with one hand. She has a feeling if someone tried to stab him, he’d just laugh.

“Well.” He pulls himself up, the blood and a slight grimace the only signs that he’s injured, “Ain’t this a coincidence. Never thought I’d see you lot again.”

Vette waves at one of her Twi’lek friends, a red skinned woman who’s lurking in the back with the rest - about three other Twi’leks. “Hey Taunt,” she says, “Patch up this guy a bit, alright? It’s all good, I know him. Flash, Plasmajack, follow Tivva back to base. We’ll be there soon.”

The three Twi’leks head off into the treeline and Taunt heads over with what looks like medical supplies, “Sit your ass down,” she tells Pierce, “Lemmie take a look.”

He seems almost impressed by her bossiness, and does as asked. Taunt pokes his shoulder and tuts. Apparently he’s not dying. She grabs a weird salve that Gimrizh can smell from ten paces away and starts dabbing it around the puncture wound.

“So you fancy knight bastards finally figured out that Hutts are border hopping?” Vette asks, pulling up a patch of dirt to sit on.

Pierce tries to move his arm and Taunt slaps his shoulder to stop him. “Didn’t take us that long. We got our own business to deal with. Sides, this is supposed to be your little area of forest, ain’t it? You keep your head down and we don’t let the Baron know that your band hides out here, don’t go reneging on that deal now.”

Gimrizh chokes, “You- I - what are you two - How to you two even know each other?”

“Huh… let’s see…” Vette scratches her lekku thoughtfully, “Oh yeah, I slapped him a few years ago and called him a moron, along with other choice insults. We’ve been friends ever since. Got a good deal, even. Told ya I never stole anything from Horizon Castle and don’t think that was due to my goodwill. Not fucking with that castle is part of our little arrangement. Oh, and don’t worry, Pierce. Gim and I go _way_ back. He’s not going to tattle.”

Thank god that Vette remembered to use male pronouns, or Gimrizh might really be fucked. It’s not exactly a mark in her favor that she’s associated with a known bandit, sure, but if Vette and Pierce know each other, then she’s in the clear. Her other, more notable deceptions, aren’t likely to be as forgivable.

She runs an oiled strip of cloth down her blades, removing the blood. “…I ask that you leave me out of this. Sir Pierce, I’m doing my utmost to stay out of trouble and I’d -”

“Don’t worry, you fool kid,” Pierce laughs, a joke that the rest of his team shares in, “This is just good sense. Not treason.”

“Yeah. We never met any Twi’leks on our patrol. Clear skies and open woods the whole way till Hutta,” Tanido winks at her. “God as my witness, we ain’t never mentioned this before. Besides, we’re the ones who’d get in trouble if the Baron found out - you know, us actual knights. Doubt some idiot squire’d get blamed.”

Reassuring, actually. “Thank you, regardless.”

“Speaking of, we should let that bastard Quinn know that we hit trouble on our patrol.” Pierce uses his good arm to gesture at one of the corpses nearby, “Grab a Hutt banner and one of those shitty weapons as proof. Right bit of rubbish, that. Hutts can’t make steel to save their life.”

Vette sighs and turns to look at Taunt, “We should probably be off. Otherwise Flash will drink every drop of ale by himself and I personally want to get drunker than a Corellian tonight.”

“Excess consumption is sinful,” Arlos says automatically, before coughing and adding, “If you follow the church, that is. If not… well… sorry.”

Pierce slaps him on the back, “Save the sermon for Sunday, you ain’t a preacher.”

“Fuck, I’m glad you ain’t,” Vette agrees, and for a moment Gimrizh has to wonder about who gave Vette that pendant. Jedi live in the west, off in Tython where they can hide in their mountains, away from the church’s dominion. Not in the East. Not in Dromund Kaas. Vette might be well travelled, but a few months is not long enough to go to Tython and come back, unless aided by the fastest of horses. So either Vette has had it for a long time, or there is a Jedi hiding out in lands held by the Sith Church.

She sheathes both her small swords and gives Vette a parting smile - treason or not, they are still friends. “Good luck, then.”

“Ah, you too Gim.” Vette sarcastically curtseys, “Pierce, I shall see you sad bastard around. Lorant, keep it cool. Tanido, don’t get kicked by a horse again. Arlos… nothing says ‘fun’ more than a bit of wine at night, just a tip.”

“It was _one time_!” Tanido complains.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A note about swords: Standard German longsword (which is what I'm using most of the time) is about 45" in length, this is what Pierce uses. Realistically (and I'm tryin here) it's near impossible to dual wield longswords. Just... don't do it. Especially if you are 5'4 like Gimrizh is. She's using much smaller verisons, closer to 30" and made with different steel. Pierce would have a sword made from a single piece of steel that would have been forged to shape, but Gimrizh made her own blades cheap, so they're a number of different types of steel that have been folded together before shaped.  
> Please let me know what you think! If you want more shenanigans or 200k of slow burn, check out my main fic Iustitia ~


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